Peace
by Ephemerale
Summary: They are damaged. Broken pits of glass crudely pasted back together with tape and glue. The girl on fire had been consumed by flames, the boy with the bread had followed a trail of crumbs into insanity. And yet, in each other, they find peace.


They are damaged. Broken pits of glass crudely pasted back together with tape and glue. The girl on fire had been consumed by flames, the boy with the bread had followed a trail of crumbs into insanity. He was once the darling of the Capitol, all blue eyes and sunny smiles and the symbol of selfless love. She had been the mockingjay, the face of the rebellion, the girl who had inspired thousands to revolt. He has become bitter, twisted, jaded; the bright boy of yesteryear is gone, and he makes those that once adored him too uncomfortable to meet his gaze. She has become suspicious, withdrawn, and all together too tired to be of use to anyone anymore, not even herself. They have sacrificed so much to build and shape and mold the world in which they live, and yet the world that they created can find no place for them.

So they live on the fringes of it. They return to a home that is no longer home; their town ransacked and razed, their neighbors little more than ash. She shatters all the mirrors in her house so she won't have to see her scars, and he plants primroses in her front yard because one of the few things he knows for certain is real is her love for her sister. They don't speak to one another; they are too damaged for words. But when her eyes glaze with terror and she screams and screams and screams, he holds her to ground her to the earth and keep her from tearing apart at the seams. And when his mind buzzes for him to kill and kill and kill, she is there to hold his face in her hands and remind him that she is real.

Slowly, they piece each other back together. They are both hurt in the process: she screams at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, shouting, "Don't you understand? I can't be fixed!" He forgets where he is and wraps his hands around her throat, squeezing until the moisture in her eyes brings him back to himself, reminds him that she is not a mutt. That she is Katniss. That he loves her. Nevertheless, he finds shards of her psyche and fits them into place, and she helps him find the pieces of his sanity that were so brutally wrenched from him by Snow. And little by slowly, they begin to heal. They are still a patchwork of scars; their souls are as hopelessly disfigured by the war as their bodies have been by the flames. They will never be as they were; never again will she be the mockingjay, never will he be the boy with the smile as warm as summer. And yet, every now and then, glimpses of the girl on fire, of the boy with the bread, manage to shine through.

They still don't talk much, but the silence is warmer now; the air is thin with fear and rich with understanding. They hold each other more often, no longer just to chase away the ghosts of their pasts, no longer simply from sheer, unadulterated need. She slips her arms around him from behind and rests her head between his shoulder blades as he paints, and he runs his fingers through her hair as she sets about mending the arrows she has broken while hunting. The day he sets a cheese bun before her and says, "These are your favorite. Real or not real?" she presses her lips to his for the first time in months and murmurs real, her eyes shining with repressed emotion. The days grow shorter, the nights grow colder, and in midwinter, despite the temperature, they undress and give one another the very last pieces of themselves that still hold innocence.

They years pass, and they knit themselves together. They are worn and jaded and sad, but she is no longer broken and some warmth has returned to his smile. The day comes when her belly swells, and the light returns to his eyes. When she holds her daughter in her arms, and some of the fire returns to her heart. Their children grow: the dancing girl with the blue eyes, and the boy with the blonde curls. In them, their innocence is reborn. In the girl, Peeta sees Katniss' stubbornness and fire, and in the boy, Katniss sees Peeta's winsome charm. And as they stand in the meadow, they remember all they have sacrificed… the sacrifices that have finally made their world a place with no fences, where their children can dance in the forest and be unshackled by fear, and have a chance at a future brighter than Peter and Katniss had ever dared to dream. And in this, the girl on fire and the boy with the bread finally find peace.


End file.
